


the way you look tonight

by Padraigen



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2019 [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious Tony Stark, Pining, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 00:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padraigen/pseuds/Padraigen
Summary: “Can I marry you?”—Happy Steve Bingo 2019 prompt square: Snowed-In.





	the way you look tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Sort of Proposal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565808) by [The1stHarbinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The1stHarbinger/pseuds/The1stHarbinger). 

> This is a fill for the Happy Steve Bingo 2019 square "Snowed-In."
> 
> This work is unbeta'd. I apologize for any glaring mistakes.
> 
> This fic is based off another one I wrote for a different fandom. I thought the premise was cute, so I wanted to try it with Stony :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The mission’s a disaster.

They’re somewhere in Transia, Tony knows, but he can’t pinpoint an exact location, doesn’t remember where he flew off course.

It’s just him and Steve. He thinks this should make even more of a disaster than the mission they failed, but he can’t… and Steve…

Steve found them a cabin. It’s an old, rickety thing that Tony’s afraid might collapse if he leans against it in just the wrong place. He wishes he could have JARVIS scan for reliability, but Iron Man’s toast and Tony really shouldn’t be complaining, seeing as he shouldn’t be alive at all.

But he is. He’s alive, and Steve’s here. Steve found them this place. Steve gave him the one and only cot, Steve stitched him up, put him back together, Steve gave him most of their rations just like the chivalrous bastard he was.

Steve’s stuck here with him. Because that’s what they are. Stuck.

Fucking snowed-in.

He wouldn’t admit it under pain of torture—which he’s totally allowed to say, because he knows exactly what that means—but having Steve with him is a small comfort. Maybe even a medium-sized comfort.

Alright, if Steve keeps stroking his arm like that when he thinks Tony’s asleep, Tony might even say he’s a massive comfort.

He blames these thoughts on the painkillers that all Avengers are forced to carry on their persons for missions. Even Steve carries some, even if they’re useless to him, probably for situations exactly like this one.

Always the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan.

Tony admits that he’s grateful for that, at least this one time. Steve’s still usually a pain in the ass, though.

The thought is a fond one, and it tugs at his heartstrings a bit. Tony is well aware of Steve pulling his hand away, the loss of it enough to make him open exhausted eyes.

Steve stands from the old three-legged stool that had been pulled close to Tony’s cot and walks on silent feet to stand beside the window, half-obstructed by the snow. Moonlight filters in and lights on Steve, casting half his face in shadow, a sharp contrast to his pale flesh. Tony’s breath catches at the way his hair glints, almost blinding to Tony’s tired eyes. Like this, Steve is beautiful.

But Steve has always been beautiful. This is just more undeniable evidence.

Maybe it’s just the way he looks, standing there under the moonlight. Maybe it’s the way he’s been taking care of Tony without a hint of protest. Or maybe it’s how his hands had felt on Tony’s skin, so gentle and heedful, like Tony was something to be handled with care.

Maybe it’s just Tony, so weary and half-high on pain medication. Maybe it’s the way he’s been pining for Steve for so long that he can’t keep it in any longer. Can’t keep his mouth shut. Can’t hide the way Steve makes him feel, like he can do absolutely anything because of the faith Steve has in him.

Maybe it’s just because Tony is in love with him, or maybe it’s because he has him alone for the first time in… ever, really. It could be any number of these things, all of them, that make him blurt out, “Can I marry you?”

And God, Tony is such a dumbass. _Can’t do things by half, can you, Stark?_

He’s tried to take it slow, tried not to let his feelings bleed onto Steve because he’s sure Steve’s not ready for them. Probably doesn’t want them at all. And it’s not like Tony even _wants _to marry Steve—okay, he does, actually, but not _now, _not before he knows how Steve feels—and _this_… this is not how this was supposed to go.

This wasn’t supposed to go at all.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, turns his head away from the lovely image Steve makes—even though it’s almost painful to do so—and tries to pretend to nod off. Like that will convince Steve what he must have heard were just the ramblings of an exhausted, delirious man.

He doesn’t hear Steve abandon his place by the window, but he does feel the warm, broad hand he places on Tony’s arm. Tony forces the breath to exhale his lungs and keeps his eyes shut determinedly.

Not even the whispered, “_Tony?_” can make him acknowledge Steve’s presence.

Maybe Steve lets it go because he thinks Tony needs the rest, or maybe Steve really hadn’t heard what he said at all, but eventually Tony finds himself drifting, worn out and in pain and protected by the knowledge that Steve is there, and he always will be.

*

Tony wakes to whispers and the feeling of _cold_. It hasn’t been particularly warm in the cabin since they got here, but Steve had found three blankets to lay on top of Tony, had given him his gloves and stroked his arms to bring back some warmth, and it hadn’t been a lot but it had never been this freezing.

He opens his eyes and sees that the door, against all odds, is now agape, snow shovelled to the side so there is now a path to get out. Next he sees Steve there, because of course he’s there, suddenly standing over him and leaning down to grab a hold of the cot. When he notices Tony’s gaze on him, he smiles encouragingly and says, “It’s okay now, Tony. Just rest.”

And Tony does exactly that, because when Steve says everything’s going to be okay, Tony has no choice but to believe him.

*

The next time he opens his eyes, it’s to see he’s now in the Tower’s main infirmary. Something’s beeping to his left, and he’s wearing an itchy hospital gown, and Steve is with him, sitting in a chair that looks much more comfortable than Tony’s ever seen in actual hospitals, a book in his lap.

He’s still in his uniform, his shield on the floor beside him, leaning against the wall. He looks like he might’ve haphazardly wiped his face with a washcloth and maybe brushed his hair a little, but other than that he doesn’t look any different than he had—God, how long has it been? Tony must’ve been asleep for hours, if not days—the last time he saw him.

Steve must feel his eyes on him, because he looks up and a gorgeous grin blossoms on his lips. “Hey. How’re you feeling?”

“I’m… okay,” Tony answers honestly, because that much is true. He’s a little sore in places, but he’ll live.

Steve nods. “You’ve been out for a few hours, but the doc says you haven’t damaged anything too seriously. Looks like you’ll be back in tip-top shape after just a few weeks.”

Tony groans as he tries to stretch, grumbling, “I have never been in tip-top shape in my life.” He shuffles under the covers and uses his left hand to pull the top sheet closer to his neck, stopping only when he realizes there’s a foreign weight on it. He brings his hand up to his face and finds a silver band now loosely occupying his ring finger, a sharp, out of place edge on top that makes him think it had been broken off of something else.

He turns to Steve to ask him about it, but breaks off before he can get any words out. He gapes, uncomprehending, at the sight of Steve holding up a pair of surgical scissors with one of the finger holds missing. “Wha—?”

“Sorry. I know it’s probably not exactly what you had in mind, but it’s the only thing I could find on such short notice.” Steve’s face is flushing prettily, and Tony really wishes he knew why, but he honestly doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“I—You…”

“Did you mean it?” Steve asks when it becomes clear Tony can’t think of what to say. “Do you really want to marry me? Because I think—no, I _know_—that I would like that very much.” He smiles and glances down in embarrassment. “Although maybe I should take you out first, huh? See how it goes before we promise our lives to each other.”

“Yes,” Tony breathes, because maybe he doesn’t completely understand what’s going on, but he knows that what Steve is saying is something he _wants. _Desperately.

“How does a candle-lit dinner under the stars sound? Is that too romantic? Maybe we can order burgers from Burger King.”

Tony blinks rapidly, bemused but in the best possible way. “Is this really happening?”

Steve sets down the scissors and his book, scooting his chair right up to Tony’s bed, and _looks_ at him. God, his eyes are beautiful, Tony thinks off-handedly. He could get lost in them. Has gotten lost in them.

Steve grins, like he knows what Tony’s thinking. He says, “You tell me.”

And then he kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, and have a moment, I would really appreciate knowing your thoughts in the comments! Thank you very much :)
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://padraigendragon.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
